


Warming Up

by HeliumStar



Series: For Your Sake Alone [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Crush, Drabble, F/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:20:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28699791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeliumStar/pseuds/HeliumStar
Summary: It’s getting cold, but the warmth of the fire is warm and comforting. He can see Molly shiver, grabbing a blanket and wrapping herself up to escape the chills. Why is she not wearing a jacket? He wonders. Arthur gets up. He can’t stand sitting there any longer. He needs to do something.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Molly O'Shea
Series: For Your Sake Alone [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2103732
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	Warming Up

**Author's Note:**

> A little drabble thing. I have written more for this "story" but I don't really want to make it a full things. So I'm just gonna upload pieces of it as more drabbles.
> 
> I'm soft for Molly okay? I would run away with her and treat her right.

Despite the chill in the air and the loneliness and the darkness of the night, Molly remains in the tent. She watches over the camp from its center, pacing back and forth in the tent to survey the happenings on either side.

A watcher in their tower, some might have called her. An animal in a cage is what Arthur would call her.

He watches her from across the fire, pretending to listen to the strum of Javier’s guitar, and Uncle’s retelling of an old lie. Arthur glances over at a nearby table, where Dutch is making a speech for the other girls, and wonders if Dutch has noticed that Molly is not there.

It’s getting cold, but the warmth of the fire is warm and comforting. He can see Molly shiver, grabbing a blanket and wrapping herself up to escape the chills. Why is she not wearing a jacket? He wonders. He should offer her his, but what kind of disaster would that bring forth?

Arthur gets up. He can’t stand sitting there any longer. He needs to do something.

Someone’s started a new batch of coffee but forgotten about it, so Arthur heads over to make sure it doesn’t burn. When all is well and fine, he pours himself a cup and hesitates before he pours another.

Dutch is busy quoting Miller, and nobody seems to pay Arthur much attention when he walks over to the tent and clears his throat.

Molly blinks up at him - as if she’s surprised that someone is there to speak to her. Her eyes shine with surprise and curiosity in the dim light of a nearby lantern. “Good evening, Arthur,” she says.

“Ms. O’Shea,” Arthur greets her. “You looked like you could use some warmin’ up. It ain’t much but…” Arthur trails off and instead offers her one of the cups - a porcelain one, which he’s seen her drink out of many times before.

Her surprise grows, but she takes the cup he offers. “I- Thank you,” she says. “That’s very kind of you.”

“It’s just out of the pot, so don’t burn yourself,” Arthur warns her.

“I won’t,” Molly vows. She holds the cup in her hands, they’re dainty and looks soft - nothing like Arthur’s rough and calloused hands. The warmth seems to comfort her, and she smiles softly down at the steaming beverage.

Arthur doesn’t know if he should stay or leave. He sips on his coffee, pretending that his thoughts are on something more important than whether or not he should take a seat or ask Molly to come with him.

“It’d be warmer by the fire,” Arthur suggests.

“I’m sorry?” Molly - who was just about to sip on her drink - stops and looks up at him.

He feels like a fool. He’s too rough with her. “I meant no offense.” He’s quick to apologize. “You looked so cold from over there. I didn’t mean to be-”

Molly raises one of her dainty hands and stops him. “It’s alright,” she tells him. “Thank you, Arthur, for worrying about me. It is a cold night, and I seem to have misplaced my shawl.” She rubs herself on the arm to warm up.

“Would- uh,” Arthur stumbles with the right words. “Would you like my jacket?” He asks.

The look Molly wears when he asks that is strange. There’s an almost unfathomable sadness in her eyes, and her brows curve downward. But the corners of her mouth twitch - a smile that doesn’t make it all the way.

She glances over her shoulder and then back up at the outlaw. “That’s alright,” she says. “I wouldn’t want you to freeze because I was careless. But if you like to stand there until I’ve finished my coffee, I’d like that very much.”

Arthur realizes - as Molly shuffles a few inches closer - that he must be radiating heat. Blood rushes to his cheeks when the realization and all the accompanying thought hit him. He clears his throat to try and get rid of the lump of nervousness that gathers at the back of his mouth. “I don’t mind one bit,” he says, and he doesn’t mind it at all.

He’s never been particularly close to Molly, but from what he’s seen and heard, neither has anyone else, with the exception of Dutch. Molly has always kept to herself, either by choice or something else. Arthur’s never really thought himself worthy - for lack of a better word - to be near her. He’s some thuggish outlaw, and Molly looks and acts just like what Arthur thinks a proper lady would look and act like.

Her arm brushes against his, and whatever coherence Arthur thought he had, slips away. In his head, there’s little but a colored noise that drowns out anything but the thought of breathing in and out. He shifts slightly - his body suddenly too fidgety to stand still - and again, he brushes against her.

Molly doesn’t notice, so she doesn’t shy away. In fact, she seems quite content to be standing there by his side.

Dutch has started the retelling of another one of his stories. He’s always had a dramatic flair to him, and the story is artistically enhanced by descriptions and dramatics that Arthur knows aren’t true. But the gang enjoys his words nonetheless.

Sipping on his coffee, Arthur glances back at Molly, who watches Dutch with a thoughtful look. She doesn’t seem to enjoy what he’s saying, or there’s something else - something troubling - on her mind. She brings the porcelain cup to her lips and sips on the hot beverage, leaving a faint trace of lipstick on the pearly white brim of the cup.

Arthur swallows hard and averts his gaze. He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to remember the last time he’d been so flustered. He suddenly felt very lonely, and the sweet scent of Molly’s perfume only made him more aware of how long it had been.

Suddenly it’s hard to remain still. A heat pools in his stomach, which quickly seeps throughout his body. It’s like he becomes hyper aware of the woman that stands next to him. The gentle curve of her nose, the plushness of her lips and the elegant curls falling down her shoulders is a sight to behold. She looks so out of place in the outlaw camp. She’s too beautiful, too clean and too good to be there.

She’s almost a little bit too good to be at all.

Arthur realizes that he’s staring. She hasn’t noticed yet, and neither has anyone else. But he knows he’d better stop before anyone does catch him. God knows what hell that would bring down upon them.

Molly shifts her weight from one foot to the other, as she takes a deep sip of her coffee. Her cup is not empty and as much as Arthur doesn’t want to leave before she’s finished - as he promised - it’s hard to remain so near her.

He can’t stand it.

The outlaw quickly drains the rest of his drink. “It’s late,” he mumbles, tilting his head down to attempt to hide from the lady beside him. He clears his throat before he continues. “I should be getting into bed. I’ve got a long few days ahead.”

Molly turns and looks at him. “Oh.” She sounds surprised. “I didn’t realize- Of course, don’t let me keep you up.”

“No need to apologize,” he assures her. His voice is low and husky. Arthur clears his throat again. “Good night, Ms. O’Shea.”

“Good night, Mr. Morgan. Thank you for this.” She raises the cup slightly, and Arthur gets another good look at the lipstick stain - a full, velvet red crescent.

Nodding, the outlaw turns and leaves. Once he’s near the edge of the camp - about to slink in behind a wagon for some privacy - he glances back to have one last look at her. She turns her head and catches his gaze - almost as if she felt his eyes on her.

They hold each other’s gaze for a long moment before they both look away. Molly steps in behind the canvas of the tent, and Arthur disappears behind the wagon.


End file.
